To Love a Woman
by Winter's Fallen Angel
Summary: Modern P&P. Darcy has made some mistakes in the past, and now it's time to show Elizabeth he's a changed man. Will history repeat itself, or will it have a happier ending?  ON HIATUS until further notice.
1. Chapter 1

**To Love a Woman  
****By L'Ange Romantique **

* * *

Summary: _This is the story of my Darcy and Elizabeth, notably starting from their first meeting from the proposal. Modern._

Author's Note: _This strays from the canon of P&P. I'll let you discover what's different. Have decided that I'll make this longer, telling the whole history beind these two. For my _'An Accidental Meeting' _readers, I'm sorry that I've had to take it down – I wasn't prepared for all the new, half term assignments the teachers would dish out. So here's something else, and I hope you'll forgive me._

Disclaimer: _Only using Pride and Prejudice to inspire me. _

* * *

**Chapter 1  
Angels Brought Me Here**

The noise of the party-goers dimmed, and she was sure everyone could hear the thumping in her chest. She could now see what had attracted everyone's attention – Fitzwilliam Darcy himself, entering from the club's golden doors. He was now on a direct path to her, and everyone either parted for him or viciously lunged forward to gain his attention. But the man didn't notice much apart from the vision before him – one that he saw as soon as he had entered the club.

Women in dresses that could have passed for long shirts showed off all their _assets_ approached him on his path to the only woman who could gain entrance to his heart. With a quick comment, a joke or smile, he walked past and continued. Her expression, one of surprise and discomfort, did nothing to detour him: any chance to talk to her was welcomed. By the end of the night, he hoped, she would be more comfortable with him, and possibly start a friendship. _Yes, a friendship, or merely to be on speaking terms. That's all I'm asking for. In time though, maybe something more,_ he thought. _But am I now worthy of her?_

Fitzwilliam Darcy had guessed correctly at the lady's thoughts. Elizabeth Bennet, for all her wit and natural ease, was surprised and discomforted. She had known it was a gamble to come to the club, Ember Lii, which was owned by _him_, but the reputation of London's best club had its allurements, so to Ember Lii she went. Fate was either cruel or merciful to her by bringing the owner there, on the night she chose to go, but whatever the outcome, she convinced herself she was only half responsible. He was the one who would determine if they talked – no way was she going up to him!

The gap between them was getting extremely close to only a few metres and instinctively, she wanted to turn away. But his eyes, those deep, never-ending pools of dark chocolate eyes had locked with hers. It was then she knew she would have to talk to him. He was too near to suddenly turn away. While the distance remained, she noted what he was wearing. His white t-shirt showed off _very_ nice abs and tan. A pair of navy khakis was covering up legs that ran marathons. Looking up to his hair, she saw it was left in its natural state of unruliness. The picture presented made her heart beat even faster.

And then, he was in front of her. A single word came from his lips, 'Elizabeth.'

Then his hand reached out to her, she took it, and he led her on to the dance floor. His eyes, and the surrounding people's eyes, looked to her, but it was only his that she saw.

'Fitzwilliam.' It came out more of a murmur, so soft it could not be heard above the music, but he knew what she was saying. He smiled.

Pulling her closer, he whispered into her ear, 'Do you know what time it is?'

She shook her head, tongue temporarily tied. Their past dealings couldn't be ignored, and her mind asked a question of her heart. _'Do you trust him?'_ Her heart, after a moment's hesitation, replied, '_Yes, I do.'_

'Well then, let me tell you. At Ember Lii, when the clock strikes ten, we have a couple's dance. It's really the only time to _dance_ with a partner – the old fashioned way.' She looked up to him with confusion. 'You know, old fashioned – when you _hold_ your partner, not just move in front of them.'

'Oh.'

As if the DJ could hear their conversation, he spoke into the microphone. 'Alright, ladies and gents, it's time for a little lovin'. Grab your partner, take them to the floor, and dance away.'

_It's been a long and winding journey, but I'm finally here tonight  
__Picking up the pieces, walking back into the light  
__Into the sunset of your glory, where my heart and future lies  
__There's nothing like the feeling, when I look into your eyes..._

Fitzwilliam followed the DJ's instructions to the letter, holding Elizabeth so close there was no space between them. Their arms were both around each other's waists, and their bodies fitted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Elizabeth remembered the last time she had been so close to him, but banished those thoughts. He wasn't the same man as he was then.

'You know, those words describe what's been happening in my life. Must've been written for me.'

Lifting her eyes to look at his, she whispered, 'My heart and future lies...'

'Yes.' It was softly spoken, but had an undertone of determination. He still wanted her. _I trust him._

_My dreams came true, when I found you,  
__I found you, my miracle... _

'My miracle,' he repeated. She gave a delicate, barely-there smile. It was all the encouragement he needed.

_If you could see, what I see, that you're the answer to my prayers  
And if you could feel, the tenderness I feel  
You would know, it would be clear, that angels brought me here..._

Elizabeth was aware of his tenderness – it was in every word he spoke, the way he held her, and his eyes, showing every feeling he felt. She now thanked Fate for bringing him to Ember Lii that night.

'You're a vision in that dress, Elizabeth. I must admit I'm jealous all those other men get to see you in it.'

She laughed gently, glancing down at what she was wearing. It was a simple dark green halter, with the neckline showing just enough to catch your attention. The waist was banded, with a glittering lighter shade of green embroidery. The hem line ended a good ten centimetres above her knees. Images of the crowd made their way to her mind, and she knew she didn't look half as beautiful, or alluring, as they did. But his sincerity was evident, and it made her smile a little wider.

_Standing here before you, feels like I've been born again  
__Every breath is your love; every heartbeat speaks your name_

'Elizabeth.' He let out a sigh. 'Could you learn to love me?' As soon as it came out of his mouth, he regretted it. But her answer made him forget any regret.

'Yes. I could.' Her smile was now as wide as he had ever seen it, her eyes telling him she wasn't lying.

_My dreams came true, right here in front of you  
__My miracle..._

With her admission to her feelings, he smiled back, dimples in full force. Her right hand found its way up to his face, and with her index finger, she touched his dimple on the right.

'You should smile more.'

'I do smile.'

'No, like this...a happy smile.'

'I'll remember that.'

_If you could see, what I see, that you're the answer to my prayers  
And if you could feel, the tenderness I feel  
You would know, it would be clear, that angels brought me here..._

'But,' she warned in mock seriousness, 'don't smile _too_ much.'

'And why is that?'

'Your admirers would admire you even more. And you're _my_ man,' she added playfully.

He turned serious. 'I've _always_ been your man from the moment I saw you. I was a thick-headed idiot then. To have treated you that way...I don't think I could forgive myself for that.'

'Shhh.' She put a finger to his mouth until he stopped talking. 'I've forgiven you.'

_Brought me here to be with you,  
I'll be forever grateful (oh forever faithful)  
My dreams came true  
When I found you  
My miracle..._

'How could you have forgiven me? What I did was appalling.'

'I won't argue with _that_, sir, but what matters is what happens _now_.'

'I can't promise I won't be an idiot at times, but you have before you a better man, Elizabeth. I _can_ promise you that I've improved, and with your help I'll improve more. That is, if you'd consider dating an idiot...'

'You're not an idiot. Didn't I say that you were my man? So yes, I'd love to have a chance to _date_ Fitzwilliam Darcy.'

_If you could see, what I see, you're the answer to my prayers  
And if you could feel, the tenderness I feel  
You would know, it would be clear, that angels brought me here..._

'Would tomorrow suit you?'

'Tomorrow's fine...' she trailed off, as his head came dangerously close to hers.  
_  
Yes they brought me here... _

'Where are you staying?'

'On 3 Gracechurch Street, with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.'

'I'll pick you up at one then.'  
_  
If you could feel, the tenderness I feel... _

She had a reply, an agreement, but she couldn't voice it. He had, as suspected, lent in to kiss her.

_You would know, it would be clear, that angels brought me here..._

* * *

The song is "Angels Brought Me Here" by Guy Sebastion. 


	2. Chapter 2

**To Love a Woman  
****By L'Ange Romantique **

* * *

Summary:_ With their history, it's amazing they fell in love. Now, together, they confront the past to live a happier future. _

Author's Note: _I don't know how far I'm going to continue this story. But, the more support I get, the more I write! Thanks to _ILoveIt09, Merenwen Calmcacil, Lucy65, Lady Tamara SilverMoon,_ and _kiz-aliasrox _for their reviews. So, until next week, I'll leave you to R&R chapter 2 of To Love a Woman._

Disclaimer:_ This is not for any profit. Use of P&P and the song are purely for fun._

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**Chapter 2  
****What the Hell **

Elizabeth remembered what it felt like to be kissed by Fitzwilliam. This kiss was different. A good different. She had foolishly trusted him back then, giving him a chance, which meant she had given him the power that he had craved and needed. The second he released her from his captive, she saw how wrong she was to have trusted him. In true Elizabeth Bennet style, she had lashed out at him, shouting to his face what she thought. The look on his face was priceless; magazines would have paid big dollars to get photos.

Almost immediately, without any real thought, he said his apologies, turned away from her and walked out of the door. The next morning, she woke up feeling tired, hurt and angry, hoping never to see him again. But while she didn't see him, his presence was in the room, in the form of a rather long letter. It was then she realised she never _really_ gave him a chance.

Now, he wasn't the same man. She was sure of that. As long as they didn't move too fast, she would give him a real chance to prove he had changed. And, what the hell, she _did_ want to know him better, to understand him. There was something about the way he acted, the way he walked, the way he thought, that arrested her attention, waking up a need to discover everything about him. If there was one risk that she'd be willing to take in her life after _he_ entered, it was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

His memories of that night came creeping into his desire-filled brain, and the accusations came rushing back. In his current situation, he clearly remembered the one that he had found the truest: taking advantage of his charm, wealth and name to "seduce woman who know nothing better". The women who knew nothing better may have been gold-diggers, knowing _exactly_ what they were doing, but the fact remained he _had_ taken advantage of them. At the time, he thought it wasn't so bad – he gave them what they wanted, and he got pleasure in return – but now, after months of analysing his life, he saw how _base_ his actions were.

Tonight, he would not ruin his chance to redeem himself in Elizabeth's, _his_ Elizabeth's, eyes, so he slowly broke his lips from hers, and slowly kissed her forehead. He noticed that the people around them had started to steal glances at them.

'You don't know how tempting you are, Elizabeth.'

Slowly recovering from the kiss, she managed a, 'Is that so?'

She was his captive, not noticing anyone else in the crowded, or the loud room. The song had changed, becoming once again upbeat, encouraging faster moves, new partners and starting the night of fun. Unlike the other couples, they chose to remain close, holding each other like they were afraid it was all a dream. Faint sounds of the music made their way to her ears, and she grinned up at his face.

_Do it, do it  
__You do it, do it  
__You're doin' it well_

'Well, Mr Darcy, I can say that currently, _you're doin' it well_.' He caught her message: you haven't stuffed up – yet. That was good. If he could just not make any stupid comments or actions for the rest of the night, the date that she had agreed to be secure. _If only..._

_Here's the thing  
I was minding my own business doin' what I do  
I wasn't tryina look for anything  
All of a sudden couldn't take my eyes off you_

'That's nice to know. When I came in to the room, I _couldn't take my eyes off you_.'

'I'll take that as a compliment.'

'What else would it be?'

_I didn't even know if you could tell  
That you had me in a daze sayin' 'What the hell'  
Here's my name, number baby just hit my cell  
Loving everything you do 'cause you do it well  
Don't know what you got me thinkin'_

The difference between this dance and their last dance was great. Bodies, previously at a safe distance from them, moved in closer. She may have been blind to everyone else, but she knew the women would now take their chances in seducing Fitzwilliam Darcy, trying to move her out of their way. Their efforts were fruitless.

_You ain't even tryina play me boy  
'Cause you're so good, and you're so fine  
Got me sayin' crazy things, listen_

'Do you think that the DJ knows our history?'

For a man of a substantial amount of intelligence, he looked baffled at her question. 'What about the DJ?'

'The songs – well, the lyrics to be precise – tell our history, and our present state. You said earlier that you thought the song was written for you.'

He caught on to what she was saying. 'Like how I've got you saying crazy things? Remember, you agreed to a date with me. The Elizabeth that I know wouldn't agree to a date with me.'

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
Boy you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

Shrugging, she said, 'If I'm crazy for saying that, then sure.'

'Would that mean I'm crazy for loving you?'

His question was expressed so seriously, she thought about answering the same way. 'Absolutely. You know, it would take a crazy person to love someone as judgemental as I am...'

'Don't go there. It was my fault. I was—'

She gave a weak laugh. 'Here I am, bringing up the subject I told you not to worry about.'

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
Boy you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

_Oh, yeah... hey_

The mood, before so carefree, was shattered, so he went about to see it put back up. 'I don't suppose that you've ever met a man like me before?'

'Oh, yes I have. You see, he was tall, dark and mysterious...I also found out he was a player. But the weird thing is I fell for him. He turned me on from the moment I heard his rich voice.' A corner of her mouth went up, challenging him to answer.

_Let me tell you how it's gonna go  
You and me, gonna need a little privacy  
I don't wanna do the dance, no do-si-do  
I'm a one woman man 7 days a week_

'So let me get this straight. If I had had his voice, I'd turn you on?'

'Pretty much.'

'Looks like I'm going to have to visit Ursula.'

A delighted laugh, meant only for his ears, came out. She marvelled at his knowledge of Disney movies. 'And does that make me Prince Eric?'

'In a way, _Princess Erica_.'

'Then shouldn't you be mute? I clearly remember that Ariel wa—'

'Mute? I'll show you mute!' His lips, previously moving to make sounds, were now employed in a different manner, much to the lady's enjoyment. For that blissful ten seconds, he remained mute, just as he said he would.

_Quit tryina play it cool boy make your move  
I told you how it is, nothin' to lose  
You been starin' over here all night for free  
And I ain't takin' no cash or credit, just a guarantee  
There ain't nobody else but me boy_

'Mute enough for you?'

'Uh huh.'

_You ain't even tryina play me boy  
'Cause you're so good, and you're so fine  
Got me sayin' crazy things, listen_

The night was still young. A blond, showing off perfect legs that would rival Carmon Diaz's, put a hand on Fitzwilliam's arm. Instead of even trying to pretend to be polite, he ignored her, and kissed the top of Elizabeth's hair. The unnamed blond wasn't a bimbo for no reason – she didn't get the message, and stayed.

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
Boy you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

Wiggling her generous _assets_, she moved to his back, disregarding Elizabeth's presence. It was clear that she thought he would take up her hint, as he would have done in the past. After months of not having the club's owner grace the room, one would think they would start questioning if he had changed his behaviour. Many people did, including the smarter gossip columnists, but bimbos were bimbos.

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
Boy you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

The man who was receiving the _special attentions_ didn't bat an eyelid, remaining in a seemingly calm mood. However, his partner was starting to have feelings of annoyance, and lucky for the man, he sensed her change.

'Have I ever told you how sexy you are?'

'Remind me...'

'I love your hair colour. It's so much more pleasing than blond. Don't ever dye it, you hear me?'

'Sure thing, _sugar_.'

At the direct mention of how he didn't like blonds, the woman stalked off, muttering about how much prettier she was than his current _squeeze_.

_Baby not lookin' for false pretences  
I think you just shocked me to my senses  
Everything that you do feels right  
Do it, do it  
Do it, do it all night_

'I thought that she would never leave!'

'Jealous?'

Pulling herself from his arms, she asked in a child-like innocence, '_Moi? Jaloux? Non!_'

'Come back here then, _mon amour_.'

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
'Cause you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

'French is said to be the language of love.'

'And I love you.'

'I know.' Those two words, as simple as they were, were filled with a trust so strong that he suddenly felt he couldn't protect her from all his imperfections, to give her a pain-free life that she deserved.

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
'Cause you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

Language, or the lack of language, could not describe what connected them. It was supposed to be an abstract "object", but between the two it was visible enough to be almost tangible. When they were separated from what they would later name _The Fight_, each lost part of their person to the other. But, the loss did not show to anyone, not even those closest to them, with Fitzwilliam being the master of the mask and Elizabeth who could not burden Jane with her worries.

If Elizabeth was to explain why she was morose, her father and mother especially wouldn't have believed her. She could envision her mother exclaiming 'Unhappy over _him_? Oh no, he hasn't used you too, has he? And your father thought you were the smart one. No, you would think you'd learn from a mistake such as_...that man,_ spitting out the last two words.

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No) (Like that)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No) (Like that)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
Boy you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

Tiptoeing up, she said in a voice barely heard, 'Maybe just a _little_ jealous.'

'May I ask why?'

'Listen.'

_I ain't ever met a man like that (No)  
I ain't ever fell so far, so fast (No)  
You can turn me on, throw me off track  
Boy you do it, do it  
You do it, do it  
You're doin' it well_

* * *

The song is "Do It Well" by Jennifer Lopez (aka J.Lo) 


	3. Chapter 3

**To Love a Woman  
****By L'Ange Romantique**

* * *

Disclaimer: _Gee, if I owed either song or book, I'd be a RICH GIRL!!! But, I'm not - so I'm just borrowing it..._

* * *

**Chapter 3  
****S.O.S.**

_Lalala lalala la la lala la ohhh  
You know... I never felt like this before  
Lalala lalala la la lala la ohhh  
Feels like... so real_

Looking into the mirror, she let her eyes take in every detail. Today, in roughly half an hour, she would be having a date with the one, the only, the Number One Bachelor of 2006: Fitzwilliam Darcy. Every woman – _every single woman_ – in England wanted a date with him. The day was proving to be warm, so she put on a loose white t-shirt with capped sleeves with a bateau neckline, and a cream coloured A-line skirt that rose just above her knees. It was simple, but gave teasing glimpses of what was underneath. Her outfit, she believed, would fit in a picnic by a lake or lunch in one of the more higher-end restaurants.

As happy as her thoughts were, she couldn't help but smile even more at the memory of the night before. The feeling of his hands, holding her, telling her how he felt long before he made a slight blunder with his words, made her think of what could of happened if they weren't in a room full of strangers. _Maybe, though, _she thought, _it was for the best. I couldn't go scaring Aunt and Uncle by not turning up! _

_I'm obsessive when just one thought of you comes up  
I'm aggressive just one thought of closing up  
You got me stressing, incessantly pressing the issue  
'Cause every moment gone you know I miss you_

Running through the night's conversation in her head, she suddenly lost her bright smile and frowned. _'...You see, he was tall, dark and mysterious...I also found out he was a player. But the weird thing is I fell for him. He turned me on from the moment I heard his rich voice'_ was what she had thoughtlessly said. Only now, in the daylight, could she see the true meaning behind her otherwise playful words. Whom did he think she was referring to? Was he offended if he thought she was comparing him to _that_ man? But there wasn't an immense chance that he would think that way – _that_ man was fairer coloured, and his voice was definitely not rich, but more light and airy.

Last night, he answered in the same light-hearted teasing way, and didn't seem to think too much about her words. It was, as she intended, to help get the conversation between them going. But what if he was having another conversation in his head, scrutinizing what she was trying to say? _There is no way, girl that you could tell. Don't worry about it now; you've got a date in twenty minutes! Just see how he reacts, and behave according to what he does!_ Cheered up by the thought of him sticking to his offer of a date, she applied with a light hand some lip gloss and gold eye shadow. _After all, if I had offended him, he would have told me so. _

* * *

_I'm the question and you're of course the answer  
Just hold me close boy 'cause I'm your tiny dancer  
You make me shaken up, never mistaken  
But I can't control myself, got me calling out for help_

Over past years, he had agreed to the "Win a Date with Fitzwilliam Darcy!" dates for fun, and it was helping various charities along the way. Those dates also had reminded him of how wanted he was – and his ego loved it. But, just like most other men, he wouldn't admit he was looking for "the perfect one", someone whom he could go home to every night, and to share his world. The life that he lived was fairly carefree for a Darcy, and up until he met one Elizabeth Bennet his motto was "work hard, play hard". Today, he hoped, was the day that he could show her how much he'd changed, how much she meant to him.

A smile that could only be described as goofy started to appear, small at first, but after some ten seconds it was large enough to rival his friend Charles Bingley's, who was legendary for his smiles. The way that she had danced with him, swaying her hips to his distraction, and not realising it, gave him some comfort that his sister Georgiana wasn't the only unmercenary woman of his acquaintance. Then there was her older sister Jane, who really was an angel. _Now, if I can fix that mistake, I won't feel like a total idiot._ Elizabeth was back in his life, and so, he reasoned, that meant he'd have to see Jane again. When he saw Jane again, he'd confess, and suddenly, Charles would appear..._Gees, I sound like some fairy godfather now._

_S.O.S. please someone help me.  
It's not healthy... for me to feel this way  
Y.O.U. are making this hard,  
I can't take it, see it don't feel right_

For their lunch date, he'd called his favourite café and begged for a reservation for his usual table. Lucinda Hurst, the owner found usually talking to the customers, had given him a million questions, the first one getting straight to the point. He was taken by surprise, but now he thought, considering the circumstances, he shouldn't have been. It was Saturday morning, and on Saturdays he would just usually turn up and have a coffee and if he was indulgent, a slice of cake.

'William...' Lucinda stretched out his name to make the two syllables longer.

'Yes, Lucy? I don't suppose that you'll forget about your Twenty Questions habit, would you?'

'No, dear, I wouldn't forget for the world. Who's gotten you into this state?'

'Can't a man make reservations at the best café in the world without suspicion?' he asked back.

'Sure they can, but you're not _any_ man. You're Fitzwilliam Darcy, multimillionaire, and a ladies' man.' He winced at her words, wishing that it hadn't been true. 'Now you're asking for your table, when usually you'd just wander in to say hello for the week if you hadn't been in earlier. No, I have every reason to be suspicious. Once again, mister, who's the lady?'

'I'll give you her first name only, just in case you decide to hire a PI. She's Elizabeth and could be the best woman that's ever come across my way. In fact, she _is_ the best woman that's ever come my way.'

_S.O.S. please someone help me  
It's not healthy... for me to feel this way  
Y.O.U. are making this hard  
You got me tossin' and turnin' and can't sleep at night_

From there, he'd told her a brief summary of their relationship and after the Twenty Questions had ended, threatened never to come again if she asked too many questions or hovered around them. Lucinda had laughed it off, telling him that he loved and would always come back for her husband's mango cake, and he wisely agreed. The teasing finished, and he finally got an agreement for what he had called for.

Telling himself to be patient – he wanted to jump in the car and go knocking on the Gardiners' door – he tried to think of something to occupy his mind for fifteen minutes. _Who knew that fifteen minutes could be that long? _His brain came up with what he required, and snippets of the night before filled his vision. The memories gave him satisfaction, until he came across her words said a few minutes before they both left for the night.

'_...You see, he was tall, dark and mysterious...I also found out he was a player. But the weird thing is I fell for him. He turned me on from the moment I heard his rich voice'_. She could have not been describing _that_ man, but he wondered if it wasn't for her mischievous voice, she was comparing the two of them. No, she couldn't have; they were too different. It didn't matter if they had both done similar things. He was the better man, and of that he was sure. After all, hadn't she agreed to go on a date with him, the most blind and idiotic man in the universe? Surely, that must count for something?

* * *

_This time please someone come and rescue me  
'Cause you on my mind it's got me losing it  
I'm lost, you got me lookin' for the rest of me  
Love is testing me but still I'm losing it_

The clock could have not been moving any slower than it was that moment. _Tick, tick, tick..._There was still some fifteen minutes before the bell would ring, and he would appear at the door. Restlessness being in her nature, she stood up from the bed and walked to the table, where she had put her laptop. Turning it on, she logged onto her email account and scanned her new emails looking for one from her sister Jane. One email was there waiting for her, and it was marked urgent. _What could she have to tell me that's urgent? Surely someone hasn't died? _With no little amount of curiosity, she opened the email and was confused by the retelling of various parties and engagements they had been to. _This doesn't classify as urgent._ But after those first three paragraphs, the words starting the next few sentences struck fear in her heart.

"_But they are not what I wanted to tell you. Oh, Lizzy, something has dreadful has happened, and be assured that none of us have passed on. No, Lizzy, what I have tot say relates to poor Libby – she's run off with George Wickham! I know what a blow this must be to you, Lizzy. I cannot believe the man to try again, within the same family. Does he not have ANY morals, dear sister? The manager, a Mr Forster, called us at midnight..."_

No more was needed to be said, but to make sure she hadn't mistaken Jane's words she started again, and continued reading the narrative.

"_...to tell us of this news. Imagine our surprise. To Cathy, however, it didn't seem wholly unexpected. They do not seem like a likely pair, do they? I cannot even think that their characters have been misunderstood – Libby, we've been living with her, and George, I know what he did to you. Mum, as you would know, is in hysterics, but Dad bears it better. How thankful I am that we never let them know what has been said against him! We must forget it ourselves. Our parents need all the hope that they can get._

"_Mr F believes that they were off at about midnight, so that's why they hadn't been missed until about yesterday morning. Dad tells us that Mr F will be here soon. Libby had left a few lines for Mrs F, informing her of their intention. It was in that letter that gave the information that they'd be heading off to Brisbane. Mr F traced them until about Sydney, where they'd last checked in. Can you believe it? Only an hours' drive away! Dad said that until he could get Aunt and Uncle over here, he couldn't leave the house in fear of something happening to Mum. _

"_Please, if this is the only time that I can be selfish, come quickly! But, of course, if it is inconvenient, don't worry. I'm sure that we can find a way to get around Mum. –Jane."_

Inconvenient! Only her sister could think of inconvenience at a time like that! All thoughts of any plans that she had ready for her stay flew out of her mind, and the only thing that she could think of was getting the earliest plane tickets out of England and back home. She was so caught up in her worry that when rushing out of her room and running down the stairs she didn't hear the bell, telling her of her visitor that only fifteen minutes ago she was happily expecting.

_This time please someone come and rescue me  
'Cause you on my mind, it's got me losing it  
I'm lost, you got me looking for the rest of me,  
Got the best of me, so now I'm losing it_

Opening the door, and exclaimed, 'Oh! Where did Uncle say he was going?'

Looking out the door, instead of seeing the apartments from across the street, she saw a light green t-shirt. Looking up further, she saw Fitzwilliam's face, and she suddenly remembered why he was there. Her pale face and hurried manner made him start, and before he could recover himself enough to speak, she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Libby's situation, hastily exclaimed, 'Oh! Fitzwilliam! I am so sorry that I can't keep our date today. There's business that I need to attend to; I have not an instant to loose. I need to go after my Uncle.'

The date didn't matter anymore. What mattered to him was to get some colour back into her face, and to calm her down. 'Whatever is the matter? You are not well enough to go after him. Does he have a mobile?'

In spite of Libby's situation, seeing him, obviously worried for _her_, made her stomach do back flips, and that didn't help with her weakening state.

_Just your presence and I second guess my sanity  
Yes it's a lesson, it's unfair, you stole my vanity  
My tummy's up in knots so when I see you I get so hot  
My common sense is out the door, can't seem to find the lock_

With some difficulty on finding a phone, Elizabeth called her Uncle and in a voice that was almost unintelligible, told him that he was needed home. Her knees now trembled under her, and Fitzwilliam directed her to the closest chair. She looked so miserably ill, that it was impossible for him to leave her, or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, 'Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine, or a tablet? Shall I get you one?'

'No, I thank you,' she replied, trying to sound stronger than what she felt. 'There is nothing wrong with _me_, but rather it is because of some news that I have just gotten from Jane.'

Here, realising the full extent of the pain the news caused, she burst into tears, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Darcy, in suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. At length she spoke again. 'I have just got an email from Jane. She writes that Libby has run off with Wickham. They left the acting group, and are believed to be in Sydney. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She doesn't have anything to tempt him—she is lost for ever.

_Take on me (uh huh) you know inside you feel it right  
Take me on, I could just die up in your arms tonight.  
I'm out with you; you got me head over heels  
Boy you keep me hanging on the way you make me feel_

'When I consider that _I_ might have prevented it! I, who had first hand experience to see who he was. Had I just said something, anything, about what I knew to my family, this could've been prevented.'

Elizabeth not only felt guilt from not telling her family of George Wickham's real character, but from thinking of how great Fitzwilliam looked. _It is not the time to be thinking that. I bet he's glad that he got out of the date. What would have happened if my family news got to the press and they'd spotted me with him? But what I've lost...I wish none of this ever happened!_

_S.O.S. please someone help me.  
It's not healthy... for me to feel this way  
Y.O.U. are making (Y.O.U.) this hard,  
You got me tossin' and turnin' and can't sleep at night_

Fitzwilliam was thinking about their date—but he wasn't thinking how lucky he was to have gotten out of it. He was thinking of the exact opposite. If they had gone on their date first, and everything had turned out fine, _then_ she got the news, he would have been able to offer his assistance. Then, she wouldn't have to suffer not knowing if she would find them. He certainly had enough resources at his disposal. Now, though, if he offered, she'd probably think that he was trying to make her feel like she owed something to him, and that was not how he wanted their relationship to be like.

'I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. But is it certain? Could they have maybe not left together?'

'Oh no, that's not possible. She left a note for Mrs Forster, the wife of the manager. They left on Friday, yesterday, night, and were traced to Sydney, but not beyond, and certainly haven't crossed the border to Queensland yet.'

_This time please someone come and rescue me  
'Cause you on my mind, it's got me losing it ('Cause you on my mind)  
I'm lost, you got me lookin' for the rest of me  
Love is testing me but still I'm losing it_

'And what is being done, what has been attempted, to find her?'

'My Dad is going to Sydney as soon as mum calms down, and Jane has emailed me to ask for my Uncle. I think that they've forgotten about the phone in the whole mess. But there is not much to be done—I _know_ that there is not much to be done. Sydney is a huge place. They may not even be there by the time we fly back!'

Darcy shook his head and moved forward as to talk to her. But she cut him off before he could even begin.

_This time please someone come and rescue me (someone come and rescue me)  
'Cause you on my mind got me losing it  
I'm lost, you got me looking for the rest of me,  
Got the best of me, so now I'm losing it_

'When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character—Oh! Had I said something...but I had not. I was afraid of my mother's reaction at the time, I think. Who knew what she would have done? What a mistake _that _was!'

Darcy made no answer. He seemed to scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, and his hair gloomy. Elizabeth observed, and instantly understood it. Her earlier opinion that he would want nothing more to do with them was now stronger. Never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him, as now, when all love must be in vain.

'Elizabeth, I wish that I could say or do something right now to take away your distress.' He stopped his pacing, and walked over to her, taking her hand into his much larger ones. 'I am sorry that I could not have the pleasure of taking you on our date today. But maybe I could have it rain-checked?'

Relief, one of a magnitude that she had never felt before, swept over her, instantly brightening up her tear-streaked face. New tears, ones of happiness, welled up in her eyes as she said, 'Yes, I'd like that very much, Fitzwilliam.'

_Boy, you know you got me feeling open  
And boy, your loves enough with words unspoken  
I said boy I'm telling you, you got me open  
I don't know what to do it's true  
I'm going crazy over you,  
I'm begging_

'Thankyou.'

He hesitated, clearly thinking over his next words. 'Remember how I said that I wished I could say or do something to take away your distress?'

She nodded, frowning ever slightly, wondering what he was getting at.

'I think that I can do something.'

_S.O.S. please somebody help me.  
It's not healthy... for me to feel this way  
Y.O.U. are making this hard (are you making this hard for me, baby?),  
You got me tossin' and turnin' and can't sleep at night_

'Oh? And what would that be?'

'This.'

He did take away her distress, if only for that minute, and another five dazed ones after that, but for her, it took away the worries about her words from the night before. She was blissful—_too_ blissful for the day's events—but couldn't care less. Libby, she decided, had done _some_ good, in the form of reassurance of Fitzwilliam's affections for her. Going through so many varied emotions in less than an hour, no real rational thoughts entered, and they waited at the back of her mind for another day.

_This time please someone come and rescue me (someone rescue me)  
'Cause you on my mind, it's got me losing it  
I'm lost, you got me lookin' for the rest of me  
Love is testing me but still I'm losing it_

Her reaction, and acceptance of him, cleared _his_ mind of any doubts over what _she_ thought of _him_, and he then vowed to make amends, so he could get his life with her on track. There was a god, he thought, that wanted to separate them, dangling her in front of him before taking her back again. But maybe, this was his punishment for all those months ago. _Never, ever, take her for granted. _

His gaze, ever steady, dropped, and he said a quiet goodbye, before slowly turning away from her, wanting never to let go of her. With only one more lingering look over his shoulder as he opened the door, he disappeared into the streets.

_This time please someone come and rescue me (someone rescue me)  
'Cause you on my mind, it's got me losing it  
I'm lost, you got me lookin' for the rest of me  
Love is testing me but still I'm losing it_

Sitting back down in the chair, she remained there, and that was how Mr and Mrs Gardiner found their niece. Telling them of Libby's story, Mr Gardiner readily promised every assistance in his power. Quickly packing up their bags, the three were in the car before Mrs Gardiner said, 'But Lizzy! What of your date?'

'Don't worry, Aunt. It's all settled.'

'And you did look like you were looking forward to it!'

'Ah, but Aunt, I now have more important things to do.'

'Would you at least tell us the lucky man, Lizzy?' her uncle asked.

'Fitzwilliam Darcy.' They were, as expected of them both, stunned.

_  
This time please someone come and rescue me  
'Cause you on my mind got me losing it ('cause any time)  
I'm lost you, got me looking for the rest of me,  
Got the best of me (best of me), I'm losing it_

As they boarded the plane, Elizabeth was undoubtedly on cloud nine. However, when she stepped off, was a different story.

_Lala lala lala lala ohhh  
Ohh ohh lala lala lala lala  
Oh oh_

* * *

The song was 'S.O.S' by Rihanna. 

Author's Note: _Sorry 'bout being a LITTLE late! This is the chapter that I was tempted to skip. It's so...awkward. But, for the sake of not having a blank chapter, I have written something. All 3,700 or so words of it. Like I warned you at the begining, this DOES NOT FOLLOW CANON. I am open to suggestions, so for the next week I'll be taking any given my way and editing the story. The song was hard to choose too - I couldn't find one to suit the two very different moods (if you can, please let me know). Can you see the double meaning behind the words?... Thanks to_ Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, kiz-aliasrox, Lucy65_ and _luckyloser07.


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